


Colour me in

by shudderssea



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Metaphorical, colour fic, this is just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 04:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19202311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shudderssea/pseuds/shudderssea
Summary: Rasmus is watercolour and Tim is pen-lines that a Five year old could have drawn.





	Colour me in

In his mind, he‘s soft watercolours; pretty, subtle colours in pale pink and stark blue, rosy lips and layers of layers of reddish brown; there is no drawing over the lines, except for some soft, round edges that look like they‘ve accidentally been placed there on purpose, to make an already perfect piece even better, to round it up and make it so, so pretty.  
He‘s, now, dark colours and contrasts, and a smile painted with greys and whites and a mixture of all the prettiest watercolours in pink and red, making up lips that frame a so gorgeous smile-  
To Tim, he‘s a work of art, a work that deserves to be framed and hung up in the greatest galleries, labelled under his own name, preserved behind glass so nothing can taint his picture perfect surface, so nothing will ever happen to dim that beautiful, perfect smile.  
When he sees Rasmus Winther in person, for the first time, he‘s almost smitten by how much he looks like the watercolour picture in his mind; only the smile is missing, at first, but when Wunder next to him makes a joke, the smile appears and Tim finds himself melting already.  
He smiles and shakes and then Rasmus Winther turns to him, and his watercolour eyes run over Tim, and then fixate on his eyes, and Tim is speechless as he is so often now.  
„ You‘re Nemesis, right?“ Caps says, and Tim is amazed by how the light catches the greens and blues, and he thinks about how he would have to mix colours to make them appear on canvas as they are right now; naturally, he has no idea how to do that, he‘s not an artist, after all, but he can certainly look at those eyes and think- and then it hits him that he still has to respond.  
„ That‘s me.“ He says, and Caps blinks a few times, and then he extends his hand.  
„ Well, see you on the rift, Nemesis.“ He says, and Tim awkwardly shakes his hand and it makes tingles run up his body, makes him feel hot and cold all over; he wants nothing more than to keep holding this hand, run his fingers over the soft surface, wants the watercolours to taint him with their rosy pinks and warm yellows. Rasmus‘ Watercolour hands seem so much more likeable than his own which are barely coloured in with pen, smudged and unfinished lines.  
The colours that touch him, they are so much more desirable to him than the blue and black stains his own touch leaves, and so he is equally sad and delighted when Caps pulls his hand away- sad, because he loses the taint of colour. Delighted, because he won‘t stain the man in front of him any longer.  
„ See you on the rift- Caps“ He says, and they look at each other for a few more seconds until Mihael wanders over to them; Mihael, with his blurred pastel edges which blend so nicely together, making a soft picture of a wonderful, friendly support.  
„ Ah, I‘ve seen you acquaintanced yourself already?“ He asks, and then, with a devilish smile, „Did you know Tim used to be a massive fanboy of yours, Rasmus?“  
Tim feels a blush- lines hastily scribbled over his face in black pen- spread across his cheeks, heat creeping up into his face, and Caps turns to him and smiles his picture-perfect, blinding smile.  
„ Well, then“ He says, with a laugh, and before Tims eyes, pink and yellow flowers spread behind Rasmus, painted with big brushes and still so much detail, „I‘ve watched you on EU-Masters last year; it sure will be fun playing against you“ He says, and then a voice calls for G2, and Rasmus smiles at him again.  
„ See you around, Tim.“ He says, and Tims mind paints him in the prettiest colours as he walks away; Mihael winks at him with a grin, which makes Tim shove him away in a gesture of goodwill, because if his Supportfriend could not mock him for the crush he used to have, that would be amazing. A crush he used to have, which now returns in the brightest force, with layer after layer of watercolour and strokes that almost smother him.  
Where Rasmus reached out to touch his shoulder lightly, a faint, pale yellow starts to make it‘s way up his sleeve, and Tim wants to keep it this way, untouched and unharmed, but the colour leaps up and merges with his unruly, black ink lines, and it smudges until his canvas is nothing but clear again, with dirtied lines and unfinished strokes.  
He sighs, deeply, and waits for his call for pictures; he‘s still there when Caps comes back, and he talks excitedly to Mihael, with his sweetly coloured cheeks, lavish strokes in a soft red.  
„ Goodbye, Tim“ He says, and the flowers around him spread out even more, accentuate him so well in all his gloriousness, and Tim can‘t help; he smiles a bit.  
„ Goodbye- Rasmus.“ He says, and for the first time, his own hands don‘t look quite as unfinished as before.

The more they meet in the LEC-building, or the few times they run into each other randomly, in a cafe- the more they meet, the more Rasmus is convinced that Tim is not human. No- he‘s made out of solid gold and marble, a beautiful statue that towers in perfect white and gold, towers over him. No scratch tears the surface, no blemish taints any part of the beautiful, amazing piece of Art that unveils itself to be Tim Lipvosek. He‘s solid, made out of so many pretty materials, materials that fit together so perfectly and make up a surface that Rasmus thinks is the prettiest he‘s ever seen.  
The more he sees Tim, the more he‘s convinced of his status as a statue, invincible and untouchable, untouched marble formed into a soft smile and loving eyes, highlighted with gold so raw and precious- even if Rasmus was allowed to touch the surface, to run his hand through polished stone and carefully applied gold, he would never dare to, in fear of ruining the perfect statue in front of him; the statue made of such expensive material, which unfolds before his eyes and turns into a smile and twinkling eyes, which turns into a cough and an order for black coffee, please.  
Even if he was allowed to touch the statue in front of him, he would never dare to lay a hand on Tim, who yawns and listens to something Mar... Rekkles tells him, with such tired eyes; Rasmus wouldn‘t dare to ruin such a work of art with his hands-  
Not when his own skin is smudged with stains of coal; charred coal, uneven strokes that make up his face and his body. His hands are eternally stained, bits and pieces of coal still sticking to him, smudging white canvas- if he were to touch Tim, he would ruin the perfect marble.  
So he doesn‘t, and just stands behind both Tim and Rekkles while they go and order their coffee; Rekkles changed his order, for he now also drinks coffee.  
Rasmus still gets sweet tea, and when he turns around, he‘s still as clumsy as ever- and nearly spills half his tea over Tim and his perfectly polished gold eyes.  
„ Sorry- Sorry. Sorry!“ He apologizes, over and over, and Rekkles doesn‘t even look at him, just turns around and takes place at one of the tables. Rekkles in all his oil painted glory.  
„ It‘s okay“ Tim tells him, as if his shirt wasn‘t half drenched in sweet, fruity tea, „I can just... change my shirt.“  
„ Still“ insists Rasmus, „I should probably make it up to you, right?“ He says, and his tongue betrays him as it does with every pretty boy he sees- maybe especially this one, because he is so precious and special and his marbled smile, and he really didn‘t think this through.  
„ You don‘t need to?“ Nemesis says, and Rasmus speaks again, and again he could curse himself right after- but Mihael made a few comments, and he can‘t forget about marbled perfection right before his eyes, and that Mihael said he had a crush on him once.  
„ Ah, but it‘s- it‘s, like..“ Rasmus starts, and Nemesis smiles the softest smile he‘s ever seen, and that is ultimately what brings the ever so slightly tinier Midlaner to stutter out his next words, „I‘d uh- do you want to get Coffee sometimes? Like not right now, you‘re here with Martin- Rekkles, I mean- but sometimes in the future?“ He stutters and stumbles with his words, and Tim smiles. The gold sparkles and reflects the light around Tim, or maybe he is the light himself?  
„ Oh, sure.“ Tim says, with his soft smile, and he looks so, so, so pretty, „I‘d like that.“  
„ Great!“ Rasmus says, and without thinking he raises his hand and lets it brush against Tims shoulder, just for a second, „I‘ll- uh. I‘ll see you around, and then we can talk about it more?“ He asks, and when he takes his hand away, he‘s mortified at the stain his charcoal hand left on beforehand unblemished stone.  
But Tim doesn‘t seem to notice, and he holds his own coffee to his chest, which is still wet with some of Rasmus‘ tea, and he smiles again.  
„ Martin is probably waiting for me“ He says, raising his hand as to say Goodbye.  
„ Don‘t leave him waiting“ says Rasmus, and Tim smiles yet again, in the perfect way he does, with white, solid marble and gold accents all over his beautiful surface.  
„ Yeah... I‘m free next Sunday“ says Tim, then, all of sudden, and Rasmus watches as his coal-stain clings to Tims shoulder; he looks down on his hands and for the first time it doesn‘t look quite as messy, for the first time there is some sense in his lines and strokes.  
They smile at each other until Rekkles calls Tim over, and Rasmus rubs his neck and thinks that his lines and scribbles don‘t look quite as bad as they usually do today.

What follows is more meetings, more meetings in which Tim learns so much, and sees so much colour; everytime he sees Rasmus, there is a new layer of watercolour added to his cheeks, a new layer of reddish brown makes up a new strand of his hair, a different type of green hushes through his eyes which are still painted with sparkles and laughter.  
And he sees how his own colours get so much more smudged with every little touch he and Rasmus share- they don‘t touch often between them, mostly because Tim is afraid of getting washed over by watercolours, until all his lines blur together and there is nothing left of him but unreadable strokes. He‘s even more afraid of soaking up all of Rasmus‘ colours with his dirty canvas.

They don‘t touch often, mostly because Rasmus is afraid of smudging Tim and his perfect marbles, afraid of staining him and covering up the gold that shines so beautifully; and he‘s afraid of wiping himself away- if he always leaves stains, one day his colours will be completely gone, stuck to other people, until all his lines will be gone.

They sit next to each other when their hands brush, in a small corner of the LEC Building; Tim is, as usual, very quiet- but who can think him wrong after his team failed to secure a win yet again. So, Tim is very quiet, and he shrieks back when their hands brush- Rasmus can‘t help but bite his lip at that, because he thought- he thought that, maybe, his lines weren‘t as smudgy today, so maybe he could have touched Tim without ruining any of his white shimmer, but now Tim shrieks back, so clearly he doesn‘t want to be touched. Clearly, he doesn‘t want any of Rasmus on him, doesn‘t want to be in contact with dirty lines and dark smudges.  
Rasmus voice gets a stutter at that, and for one second there is nothing but incessant silence around them, nothing but silence that quickly gets too loud- and his voice shakes as Rasmus picks up a conversation again, tries to fill the silence with his voice, until Tim clears his throat. He has to be so annoyed, Rasmus thinks, and before his eyes his lines start to wash out, start to get more freely, dark stains over his pants and shirts.  
„ I‘m probably not a good conversation partner.“ Tim says, and Rasmus doesn‘t know what to answer, but Tim keeps on talking, „I‘m.. Just not as good as saying what I want to say when I‘m so down.“  
„ You‘ll surely win next week“ Rasmus tries to cheer him up, „Maybe you just need time to boot up a bit..“ He tries, and Tim turns to him. He‘s so beautiful.  
Even when his whites are a bit darker, even when his gold is tainted by dark shadows of sadness, they still shine so brilliantly, and what would Rasmus give to be made of the same material, or to even call Tim his in all his marbled glory.  
„ We don‘t have any synergy“ Tim mumbles, and Rasmus snaps out of his admiration to be a better listener to Tim, to be there when his friend needs him, „They don‘t... they don‘t like me, and I know it. They know it. We.. we don‘t fit together“ He mumbles, and Rasmus wants to say something, but Tim interferes him.  
„ Those are just the facts, Rasmus. Can we... can we not talk about it?“ He asks, and who is Rasmus to deny Tim anything when he looks so tired; even if he brought up the topic, if Tim wants to talk about something else, then they can. He won‘t pressure him into anything, afraid of putting stress on already stressed, white marble.  
„ What do you want to talk about then?“ Rasmus asks, and Tim goes to open his mouth, closes it then again. And, then, he does something Rasmus would have never suspected; no wire in his messily lined brain, a mess of dark lines and blurred smudges- nowhere would he have suspected Tims next asnwer.  
„ Can we hug? For a bit? I‘d like a hug right now..“ He mumbles, and Rasmus nods. And nods. And nods.  
Tim slumps against him, puts his hands on Rasmus back, and Rasmus reciprocates, wraps his arms around Tim, and they stay like that. He‘s afraid that he might dirty up Tim too much, let too much of his lines cling to Tim, but it feels too good to pull away, and his heart is beating a mile a minute.  
For a second, Tim is very afraid that he‘ll suck up all of Rasmus‘ colours, absorb all the pretty pinks and yellows, but it feels too good to pull away, and he needs this hug right now.  
He‘s still suprised to have voiced his wish so directly, doesn‘t know why he hasn‘t wished for a hug before- he knows why, because they‘re not very touchy with each other- but right now he wishes they would be more touchy, the hug feels so good. Too good.  
They only pull away when he hears steps, and then Mads calls out his name, and he lets go of Rasmus; instantly, Tim feels a bit empty, and he‘s too afraid to look at Rasmus‘ back or his hands.  
„ Tim, are you coming?“ Mads asks.  
„ Yes, in a second.“ Tim calls back, and Rasmus looks at him, and Tims hands are coated in peachy pink- he‘s nearly euphoric when the colour creeps up his arms, and- it doesn‘t smudge. It colours him in, but the pen doodles that make him up, they don‘t bleed into his new colour. And the colour stays! The colour stays, and when he stands up to say Goodbye to Rasmus, there is no lack of colour on his back- Tim can‘t contain his smile, and he gets a bit too over-eager maybe, because he leans forward when Rasmus also stands up-

Tim kisses his cheek, and for a second Rasmus is almost euphoric, because when Tim pulls away, there is no coal staining his lips, they‘re still as pretty as always in their cherry red and gold accents.  
„ Goodbye. Talk to you tomorrow? Or later? We can text.“ Says Tim, and Rasmus just nods, nods to all of it, nods to everything Tim says. His euphoria is still there, and it peaks when Tim turns around and walks away- there are no black lines on his back when he leaves, the white marble is still unblemished, perfect as always.  
And when Rasmus looks onto his own hands, there are tiny gold particles on the tips of his fingers; they stay on the entire night, when he stays up far too long- he‘s texting Tim, and Tim texts him, and even though Tim‘s been so sad the morning, now he laughs through texts and even says yes when Rasmus asks him to meet up soon again, maybe for a coffee, maybe for a tea?  
Tim says „Yes“ and Rasmus wants to ask if this could be an actual date, maybe. After all, Tim kissed his cheek today, and there is gold on Rasmus‘ hands, which sparkles just the way Tim does. He doesn‘t ask, though, because it‘s late already and maybe Tim doesn‘t want this to be a date, more than a simple meetup between two friends who just so happen to share affection between them sometimes.  
They meet up at a small place in Berlin, where the walls are painted a soft mint colour, and where Tim looks so peacefully out of place in his stark marble, in his dotted on, golden sparkles.  
„ I don‘t have much time“ Tim says, „Could we maybe just get a drink and then walk back together? We can go through the Park, but I really don‘t have much time... today.“  
„ You could have said something“ Rasmus says while they wait in line, „We could have met up when you actually have time- not that I‘m mad- but maybe it would have been easier for you this way“ He says, quick to correct himself as to not dim the pretty sparkles that reflect in Tims eyes while they talk to each other. They move forward in line and Rasmus stutters out his order- their orders- in his broken, uneven german.  
The Girl behind the counter gives off a thoughtful smile and lets him repeat his order in English, which is much easier; she laughs and tucks her blonde hair behind her ears, giggles as she hands out their orders. She‘s soft, pinkish gem, accentuated with mint freckles, making her fit in perfectly with the shop, and Rasmus can‘t help but smile back at her when she answers in perfect English and wishes them a nice day.  
The wind in Berlin is cold, and all too quickly Rasmus notices how Tim is shivering, even though he‘s clutching his coffee, notices how Tim withers away at his lip, shaking under the influence of stormy winds and cold temperatures.  
„ You can“ Rasmus starts, stopping for a second, when they still have a half of their walk left; Tim stops, as well, marble and gold, cold air pulling at his hair and the thin shirt he is wearing. Long-sleeved, yes, but too thin for the weather in Berlin. And Rasmus is used to colder temperatures, anyways.  
„ You can wear my jacket“ Rasmus offers, „I‘m not cold. And my shirt is much... warmer.“ He says, searching for the word but not finding it; Tim raises his eyebrows, golden shimmer spreading over his cheeks, highlighting his face even in the cloudy streets.  
„ I‘m not cold“ Tim protests, at first, but he‘s shaking too much to deny it.  
Tim is.. slightly taller than him, but the jacket has been too big on him anyways, and so it fits quite nicely on Tim, Hastily scribbled lines that make up a jacket which looks so good on Tim, so, so good.  
They walk next to each other in silence then, silence filled with the clutter of Berlin Charlottenburg, and Rasmus likes this, likes walking next to Tim in his white and gold, likes the way messy charcoal sits against Tim. His mood lightens even more when a very adventurous Biker drives far too close to them, which pushes Tim a bit into Rasmus- of course, they curse at the Biker, but it‘s also nice feeling Tim against him, so warm and smooth and perfect.  
They part when the Biker has passed, but even so they‘re closer together than they were before, and their hands keep brushing, until Rasmus finally jumps over his scribbled shadow and wraps his pinky around Tims; he holds his breath, then, when golden freckles turn to him, so big in grey marble eyes.

Where Rasmus‘ pinky touches his, warm colour starts to flood into Tim in his boring, pen lines, until his whole hand is a mixture of soft pink and creamy white, so warm and soft, like a sunrise, he thinks. Maybe that‘s not correct, but the flowers that bloom behind Rasmus make it so hard to think of something else than Rasmus, Rasmus, Rasmus.  
He‘s so pretty, how beautiful the colour layers over his face as he looks at Tim, with a painted uncertainty in his eyes, blush in long, lavished strokes over his cheeks. He stands out in the grey of Berlin, and when Tim looks at himself, at their intertwined fingers, he can‘t help but think that he also stands out a tiny bit, glowing in Rasmus‘ yellows and pinks that flood his body.  
Even though Rasmus lights him up, colours him in, his glow doesn‘t fade, and Tims own lines also don‘t fade- it‘s a feeling that makes him so heady, almost too heady because a blush starts creeping up his ears and he feels a little bit hot under his skin from a simple touch and the realisation of being coloured in.  
„Tim?“ asks Rasmus, eyes still big and full of this uncertainty; he tugs at their fingers, eyebrows knit together so cutely, „Is this okay?“  
„ Yes“ Tim says, too quickly, it comes out as almost a breath, „Yes. That‘s okay.“ He says, and his heady feeling makes him a bit bolder than he normally is, because he lets go of Rasmus pinky and instead fits their hands together. „Is this also okay?“  
Rasmus smiles, and the flowers behind him bloom into even greater shapes, stark oranges and reds, bright yellows and pinks, accentuated with sprinkles of white and gold. Gold? This is.. new.  
„ Yes.“ Rasmus says, now, and then they‘re back on their way, until they reach Tims Office.  
„ This was nice“ Rasmus says, but he‘s still holding Tims hand, and Tim never wants to let go; he‘s afraid the colour that has started to creep up his entire arm will disappear- and he likes the way he looks now, coloured in in the soft glow of his- of Rasmus. Likes the way their hands fit together so nicely and how this simple touch makes him radiate of warmth and soft offwhite.  
„ I should probably go“ Rasmus says, then, after a second where they just stand there- a second where Tim bathes in Rasmus‘ flowers and colours- and they detangle their hands. Tim misses the warmth against him immediately, and on that topic...  
„ Your jacket“ He says, and hopes that none of his pen lines stained the pretty, fuzzy jacket.  
„ You can keep it“ Rasmus says, and Tim wants nothing more, but he can‘t keep the jacket- the thought alone makes his cheeks heat up, more pen lines over his face.  
„ No, not really.“ He says, and some of the colour in Rasmus cheeks fades, so he quickly clears his throat, „I mean... won‘t you be cold then?“ He asks.  
„ No“ Rasmus says, shaking his head, „I‘ll just take the Subway to the House now. That‘s gonna be fine, I promise.“ He adds, and some of the colour returns to his cheeks, Tim notices, „You can just give it back next time we meet.“  
„ So we‘ll meet again?“ Tim asks and feels like a Schoolboy, too tight and warm in his own skin; he‘s dumb, of course they‘ll meet again, at the LEC at least, if Rasmus never wants to meet in private again. Oh God- what if he never wants to meet in private again? Maybe because he notices how Tim soaks up his colour and maybe because he knows Tim is in love with-  
„ Are you free tomorrow night? I know you stream sometimes but.. Maybe you‘d like to go out? And eat? I know there is a chinese restaurant- it‘s really good. If you‘d like to go there?“ Rasmus asks, and Tims thoughts come to an abrupt halt.  
„ You want to go eat? For Dinner?“ He asks, and Rasmus looks at him, eyes big.  
„ I thought.. It‘s okay if you don‘t want to, that‘s okay.“  
„ No. I would like that.“ Tim says, and he feels awkward and dumb, and then his phone beeps; it‘s time- he‘s late, he‘s gonna be late if he doesn‘t run up to the Office now.  
„You should go.. we can text?“ Rasmus asks, with a smile, and Tim smiles back; he‘s been so bold today already, but now he does it a last time and surges forward, wraps his arms around Rasmus und even kisses his cheek for good measure.  
Then he rushes in, to hide his blush and to not face possible rejection for going so all out.

When he looks into the mirror the next day-because Mihael refuses to let him go on his meeting with Tim- it‘s not a date! It‘s not a date, Rasmus thinks. He‘d like it to be one, though...  
Anyways, Mihael refuses to let him go out if he doesn‘t look acceptable in Mihaels eyes; Rasmus can‘t stop blushing when he looks into the Mirror, because where Tim kissed his cheek yesterday, there are still golden sparkles on his skin.  
They look so nice over his scribbled, charcoal lines, and while he brushes his hair, Rasmus can‘t help but think about how nice the gold would look if it came directly from Tims shiny lip- ah, he shouldn‘t think like that, he realizes with a blush that deepens the lines on his face. He really shouldn‘t think like that. After all, Tim might not even like him like that, and even if they potentially kissed... there could still be the problem of his lines dirtying the pretty marble Tim is made out of.  
Yesterday, that didn‘t happen- but it could happen today. He‘s.. Rasmus is just nervous. A bit.  
He presents himself to Mihael, and when the Support decides that he looks clean enough to meet up with the other Midlaner- and, really, Rasmus has spent a good time brushing his hair!- and then he‘s on the way. They agreed to meet there, Tim is already there when Rasmus arrives.  
Stunning in marble, golden accents shimmering so perfectly in the setting sun of Berlin, Rasmus is breathless for a second, standing still in his tracks because he‘s just so smitten with Tim. He‘s so smitten with Tim who laughs and smiles as he spots him, waving a bit. God, he‘s so in love.  
Dinner is a nice affair; they sit next to each other and Tim can‘t eat with chopsticks- well, it‘s not like Rasmus is any good at it, either, but he can eat decently, so he tries to teach his.... he tries to teach Tim how to eat properly with Chopsticks. By the fifth bit of broccoli that flies back into the bowl Tim gives up and orders a fork and a knife, please.  
„ Ah, maybe we should go somewhere else for our next date. He says, and-

And why did he call this a date, dammit! It‘s not a date. Or is it?  
Rasmus across him blushes, and he looks so wonderfully pretty in soft orange and pink tones today, that match the chunky bits of offwhite Tim still has on his arms.  
It‘s not a date, though, they‘re not on a date right now.  
„You can choose where we go on our next date?“ Rasmus asks, then, and over the table he reaches out and takes Tims hand in his, and Tim feels the warmth as Rasmus‘ colour floods him. He watches as more parts then ever before get filled in the perfect warmth, in this so soothing off-white, watches as the world around them dims just a little as Tim feels himself start to glow and the flowers around Rasmus expand and overlap and Rasmus is the prettiest thing still between them.  
„ Do you want to have a next date?“ He asks, because the warmth and the feeling of being so full with colour, of being all coloured in- it makes him heady again, dizzy with how happy he feels, and in this pure rush of endorphine, Tim can‘t stop himself from letting his mouth run loose, „Do you want to have more dates? Maybe a lot more? I think I want that. I‘ve liked you for some time- would you want to be my boyfriend?“ He blurts out, high on the feeling of glowing, high on the feeling of being coloured in, a finished piece for the first time in his life.

From where Tims hand is entangled with his, little gold particles start to creep up Rasmus‘ arm, and for a second he‘s entranced; his own lines start to clean up, all in neat order now, rearranging themselves to open up spots where gold can settle in and make him so shiny, just as pretty as Tim. He‘s entranced, and so he at first doesn‘t really recognize the depth Tims words hold. And then they sink in, and he can feel his face explode with blush when Tim looks at him.  
„ Yes!“ Rasmus says, maybe a bit overeager, „Yes... Yes to all.“ He says, and then, just because he wants to say it and feels like he should and he wanted to say it for so long now, „Yes, I want to be your Boyfriend. Do you want to be mine?“  
Tim giggles, and he nods, and Rasmus needs to suppress the urge to just jump up and down and scream about how happy he is as his lines settle and Tim glows in perfect, solid, marbled glory and gold.  
They finish dinner, but it‘s still light outside, so they decide to take a bit of a walk and run into one of Berlins many festivities; they just go along with the flow there, following a myriad of people until they‘re at a bridge.  
There, between all those people, Rasmus feels confident enough to take Tims hand yet again, and the smile his boyfriend gives him is just stunning; it feels so nice to say that, to think that. Tim is... his boyfriend. Tim is his Boyfriend.  
He leans over to whisper excactly that into Tims ear, just as they come to the side of the bridge, looking into the water of the river that flows through Berlin; Rasmus can‘t remember the name right now.  
Tim giggles the closer Rasmus leans towards him, and just as he‘s about to talk- both Rasmus and Tim shriek back as an explosion can be heard. The people around them look to the sky and point, and- oh. Fireworks.  
They giggle at that, at the Fireworks in pink and green and red; Tim looks so pretty in the darkness, and his marbled face reflects the colours, makes his lips look gold and shiny and- Rasmus would really like to kiss him right now.  
He asks first, of course. Maybe Tim doesn‘t want to kiss yet. Maybe he‘s not ready, which would be okay- but he asks anyways, because he really really wants to kiss Tim right now, soak up his gold and his shimmer.  
„ You‘re so pretty“ He says, when purple sparks catch the gold in Tims eyes, „You‘re so pretty- can I kiss you?“ He asks, in his flimsy way of talking. In all his messy lines and his shaky breaths, he awaits Tims answer.  
Soft lips press against his, so fast that Rasmus can‘t even close his eyes, but then he closes his eyes. Their kiss is over and he asks for a second one, which Tim gives to him just as softly, hands still interlocked.  
When they pull away this time, Rasmus feels like his face is on fire, so he detangles their hands and instead wraps it around Tims waist; in the reflection of the water he catches his own reflection. Standing next to Tim, Rasmus feels so, so happy when Tim wraps an arm around his shoulder. They fit together so nicely now, all cleaned up lines and marble, connected through the gold details that fleck over both of them, mirrorring each other.  
„ I love you“ whispers Rasmus to their reflections, and feels content.

When Tim catches his reflection in the water, he feels euphoric, and the feeling stays when Rasmus cuddles closer to him, wraps both arms around him this time; their reflections fit so neatly together now, Rasmus in all his watercolour glory, in pink and yellow and orange and gold- the gold is so much more prominent now, Tim loves how it contrasts so nicely with his usual colours. And next to Rasmus, wonderful, perfect Rasmus- there‘s Tim, there is he, himself.  
And he looks like a filled out painting, in offwhites and oranges, lines still present but neatly coloured in, just like it‘s supposed to be.  
They fit together so well, and Tim looks at their reflection for some time.  
„ I love you“ whispers Tim to their reflections, and feels incredibly happy.


End file.
